


Never Enough

by SugarCrystal



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarCrystal/pseuds/SugarCrystal
Summary: Rimmer can't get enough, Lister knows he'll always come back. Not the first or only "Lister is a prostitute on Mimas" fic out there but I wanted to have a try at writing something grubby and sleazy.
Relationships: Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Never Enough

Rimmer emerged from a taxi in a neon-lit street of bars, casinos, and strip clubs. From there it was just a short walk away from the noise and the crowds to the dirty, dimly lit alleys that made up the fringes of the Mimas red light district. He dodged through the crowd, avoiding looking at anyone or anything.  
He walked past the overflowing skips at the back of a nightclub to the spot where the alleys proper began, marked by a gigantic crude representation of the male genitalia spray-painted on the wall. He often wondered if it was someone's attempt at advertising or just some random graffiti. The neon glare of the attractions didn't reach this far, the only light here came from street lamps, the cheap types with the dim orange glow. Other than a distant throbbing of a club track bassline, the busy sounds of the city didn't reach here either. It was dark and quiet and he allowed himself to relax. 

The boy in the leather jacket with the dreadlocks and Liverpool accent was waiting in his usual spot. Rimmer stopped a few feet from him and watched him silently, a breeze whipped some litter across the pavement and he tugged his overlarge blue uniform jacket more tightly around himself against the cold.

The boy took a puff of the cigarette he was smoking and looked at Rimmer. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Shut up!" Rimmer scowled. 

The boy stubbed out his cigarette on the wall behind him, flicked it into the gutter, frightening a rat, and beckoned him over.

Lister didn't usually let clients kiss him, it was part of the advice he'd been given by a nice old girl who'd been in the business for years. Kissing was unhygienic and carried risk of contagious diseases, there was no such thing as a condom for mouths, after all. But Lister would break the rule for this guy, he knew the bloke was clean and healthy, though he knew little else about him. He grabbed his tie and used it to pull him in.

Rimmer moaned against the boy's lips, he caught hold of him by the hips and held him against his body as he felt the soft tongue in his mouth, the deft hands in his hair, tugging it out of shape, and then on his waist, undoing his belt, unzipping his trousers before the lad turned them both around and walked him backwards until Rimmer had his back up against the wall, beside a pile of black rubbish sacks. He sank to his knees in the street and released Rimmer's half-hard cock from his underwear, the wet tip briefly protested at being exposed to the cold, but was almost instantly engulfed by a moist warmth.  
Rimmer's fingers scrabbled against the brickwork at the feel of the boy's mouth on him. He sucked him expertly until Rimmer spilled into his mouth, then turned his head and spat it out onto the pavement before standing up.

This guy had a recovery time like Lister had never seen. Lister dug a condom out of his pocket and handed it over, then swiftly unzipped his own trousers and tugged them down, exposing his bare buttocks to the bite of the cold night air, then turned around and braced himself against the wall. The man spread him with his fingers and entered his already lubricated hole. 

Rimmer closed his eyes and buried his face in the lad's shoulder, both arms around him, holding him close. Nothing else mattered as he thrust into him, he forgot the cold and the stink of the alleys, he forgot everything wrong with his life. Only _he_ mattered. He was tight and hot and he smelt of cigarettes and beer and the leather of his jacket and Rimmer _needed_ him...,

Lister clenched his arse around the guy's dick, gripping him tightly and making him moan against his neck. His own cock was getting hard now, he took one hand off the wall and gripped it to bring himself off as the guy fucked him, splashing his semen over the filthy brickwork. He never bothered to do that with any other client, just this one; for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of.  
When the man finished, he paused to catch his breath before pulling out, then tugged off the condom and threw it into the gutter with all the others that accumulated there, along with syringes and other crap. Lister pulled his own trousers back up, glad to get his arse warm again and turned to face him.

Rimmer gave his cock a wipe down with a tissue and fastened his trousers before digging a wad of cash out of his pocket and thrusting it at the boy, avoiding meeting his eyes. He didn't even bother to count it anymore, it didn't matter.

Lister stuffed the money into the inside pocket of his jacket with the rest of his night's earnings and lit another cigarette. "See you again soon?"

"Don't count on it, miladdo," Rimmer sniffed, back in control of himself. The boy was awfully full of himself for a prostitute, he seemed to be under the impression that Rimmer had a thing for him. There were plenty of other young men working the streets here, it wasn't Rimmer's fault if this particular one just happened to be convenient.

Lister just shrugged. It couldn't be more obvious that the man had developed a fixation on him, so why not just admit to it? What did he think lying about it would achieve?  
But then he'd never really been able to figure this guy out. He claimed to be an officer in the Space Corps, but Lister wasn't buying it. For one thing, the uniform didn't fit him too well, suggesting it was borrowed or, more likely, stolen. And why would a successful officer have begun screwing around with some back-alley rent boy in the first place? Surely he'd have gone to a proper brothel, or had someone sent to his hotel room.  
The man was in the Space Corps alright, Lister believed that part, but not as an officer. Lister's best guess was that he did some bottom-rung job, washed the dishes in the canteen or mopped corridors or something, which would explain why he needed someone to feel superior to. What Lister didn't get was why he bothered to go around in someone else's uniform, calling himself an officer. Who the smeg did he think he was impressing?

Rimmer scowled at his flippant attitude. "I might come back, I might not. I'm a busy man. Don't think you're high on my list of priorities, squire."

"Yeah, right, _officer_ ," Lister said mockingly. "Better run along, the Space Corps might crash and burn without you."

"At least I don't earn my living with my trousers round my ankles," Rimmer snarled at him.

"Says the guy who can't get enough of me."

Rimmer pinned him to the wall by the neck, causing him to drop his cigarette. "You mean nothing to me, you're just a useful hole!" he hissed in his ear. "I don't even know your name. I don't _want_ to know your name!" 

It wasn't the first time the guy had said that to him. The last time he'd said it while he still had his cock inside him. One day, Lister decided, he'd tell him his name, just to piss him off, but not today. He shook him off with no great difficulty and lit a fresh cigarette. 

Rimmer turned on his heel and stalked away, trying to look dignified.

Lister watched him leave. "Yeah, see ya, smeghead," he called after him.


End file.
